


Morning Routine

by booksandboxsets



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Future Fic, Gallavich Week, M/M, Multi, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:36:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1741622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksandboxsets/pseuds/booksandboxsets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian thought he had craved routine, thought that the certainty of knowing what was going to happen each day was something he had desired, but the current routine of his life was starting to wear him down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Routine

**Author's Note:**

> gallavich week: day 2 - 'come what may' (post 4x12)  
> so this is my first proper shameless/gallavich fic so, kinda nervous i hope its not too ooc lol. and ik its not exclusively gallavich, but it is the main focus so it counts, right?

_6:30am: wake up, shower_

Ian thought he had craved routine, thought that the certainty of knowing what was going to happen each day was something he had desired. After a lifetime of not knowing whether they would have enough money to pay the next bill, it would be nice to have something that was set in stone. It was part of what had attracted him to the army. He laughed to himself, _look how that had turned out,_  had driven him mad enough to crash a helicopter. Just to break the repetitiveness of it all. He figured that his mania was part of the reason he had despised it so much, but either way, his hatred of the routine at basic had had a lasting affect. Not enough of an affect that he didn't regret fucking up his chances of trying it out again, after working towards the army goal for such a large proportion of his life how could he not? There was enough of an affect however that the current routine of his life was starting to wear him down.

_7am: breakfast e.g. pill concoction_

He had thought that routine meant control. In a way it did, he guessed, seeing as it was this routine that provided him with some sort of stability. He just found it ironic that the routine was only in place due to the biggest loss of control he had ever experienced.

_7:15am: text from Fiona: taken medicine?x_

Ian understood she was only checking up, knew that he could hardly be pissed off with her for worrying about him; he should probably just be thankful that his family were finally starting to give a shit again. The broken cross-links that had made up the Gallagher unity were finally starting to reform.

These facts did not stop his reply deviating from his usual 'yup'.

_7:20am: 'yes, as always ffs'_

He knew better than to not reply at all, knew she would start freaking out and come find him, he was just so sick of reading her question every day that he couldn't help but snap a little. Yes, her vision of bipolar was clouded by Monica, all of their visions were, but he was not their mum. He wished she would finally start to see that, finally start to realise that he didn't need a babysitter any more, that he had been managing for months.

_7:30am: go back to bedroom with some coffee for Mickey, get changed into running gear_

"Hey Mick, coffee." 

Mickey rubbed his eyes and pushed himself up into a sitting position, "Thanks man".

Ian would probably never get over the sight that was Mickey Milkovich in the morning, and the same went for Mickey, his eyes never leaving Ian as he got changed.

There was no mention of pills throughout the whole process, no Fiona-esque check up. Ian knew that Mickey would make sure he had taken them whilst he was on his run, having once returned to find him counting out the pills on the table, but the fact that Mickey no longer woke up and watched him swallow them down was enough. He trusted Ian to get up and sort himself out, and Ian was beyond grateful for it. 

_8am: run_

Running wasn't as enjoyable as it was when he was manic, and as its designated time was no longer sunrise he didn't even have a decent view, but he kept with it all the same; weight gain due to medication was enough motivation as far as Ian was concerned. Most of the time Fiona joined him, he always made sure to run past the Gallagher house to fetch her. He considered not bothering today though, knowing that she'd want some kind of explanation for the text earlier, but he couldn't bring himself to. Fiona had enough on her plate.

When he got there she joined him silently, and Ian immediately knew that he should have probably stuck to his plan of running alone, her usual tactics already starting to irk him. He didn't know why he was feeling particularly pissed today, but he supposed that treating a teenager like a toddler was eventually going to build up to a breaking point, regardless of whether said teenager had a mental illness or not. So when he purposely slowed down his pace and Fiona followed suit, he stopped.

"I know what you're doing, stop."

"What are you even on about Ian?"

"Jesus Christ, Fi, don't act like I'm stupid. We both know you can run faster than me, so why are you always taking up the tail end huh?"

As expected, there was no reply, the duo just stared at each other. Ian could see the worry slowly etching its way into her features, something which seemed to happen every time Ian showed an ounce of heightened emotion. He knew what was coming up before she even asked.

"...Are you okay?"

"Fucking hell, yes, yes I'm great, forget it."

Fiona raised her eyebrows slightly but didn't press the issue, so Ian continued with his run. He choose to take a different route to their usual one, the smallest act of defiance against the monotony that had become his life. It was also as much defiance as he could muster; he may want to take a side-turn, but he would never stray too far from his path of routine. He couldn't do that to his family, but most of all he couldn't do that to Mickey, not after all that the older man had done to pave this pathway. He had laid down each brick for Ian, and Ian would never undo that work, he didn't even want to. Funnily enough Ian liked being in control of his own mind, but the slight alteration seemed to set off Fiona's alarm bells.

"Why are we going this way?"

He ignored her, continued jogging.

"Ian, stop."

He continued, his breath getting more ragged, his panting getting harder as he felt his irritation levels increase for the third time this morning.

"IAN."

"YES, FIONA?" He stopped and span around so quickly Fiona almost ran into him, she took a step back and ran a hand though her hair, looking at pretty much anything but her sibling.

"Oh spit it out seriously," Ian suspected that this argument was inevitable, may as well get it over with.

"You don't seem yourself," she finally said.

"I don't seem myself?"

"No, you're... you're more, agitated." She looked around nervously, "the text this morning, changing routes... not yourself."

Ian could't take it any longer, he had been through this process before and he was tired of it. Any change in his mannerisms and he was either on the spiral upwards into mania or the decent into depression. Apparently it wasn't possible for him to just be experiencing the normal mix of emotions everyone goes through, so he wasn't entitled to the same comments they got when their temperament was slightly shittier than usual. There was no 'someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning', it was either 'did you go to bed at all last night?' or, 'are you going to get out of bed tomorrow morning?', there was no in-between.

"Funny that when I _wasn't_ actually myself none of you bothered to do anything, but now that I am as near to myself as I have been in months you decide to question it."

Fiona looked as if he had slapped her, "that's not fair."

"No, do you know what's not fair? The fact that you have to run behind me, always got to keep an eye on me, too scared that if you run up ahead you'll turn round and find me running off to throw myself in front of the fucking El," his voice hitched and he had to clear his throat before carrying on, "the fact that you still expect me to turn out like Monica. That's what's not fair."

Ian was expecting some sort of rebuke, for her to persist with her questioning, for her to ask him if he was sure that he had taken his pills. He was not anticipating the reply he got.

"If you're so different from Monica why do you keep returning to your equivalent of Frank?"

He would have been less surprised with an apology. He couldn't even understand how that was a question, Mickey had proven himself numerous times. Mickey was less like Frank than Ian was Monica, he was the complete opposite of the drunken prick. His family could query Ian all that they wanted, but once his boyfriend came into the equation he could hardly maintain his composure. He had obviously expected this doubting of Mickey initially, but not any more, not after everything he had done. And if it was going to be from anyone he would have expected it from Lip, never Fiona. Losing his temper wouldn't help with her 'Ian's-becoming-manic-again' theory though, so instead he just chose to point out the hypocrisy.

"Says the one who keeps returning to Jimmy? or is it Steve? Oh no, its Jack now. I mean, I'm obviously such a dick for returning to someone who's been beyond honest with me, but when you return to someone who can't even stick to a name? Yeah, that's fine."

Fiona was practically hysterical by this point, "THIS ISN'T ABOUT ME IAN, I'm not concerned about me, or my love life. I know it's a mess, okay?" She paused, finally looking him in the eye. "Why can't you just come home? I know you're regulated and everything but we have experience, we can handle it better when things go wrong."

"And why do you assume that things are going to go wrong, basing this on Monica again? Real encouraging, Fi."

"No, it's just... Mickey was amazing at first, I'm not denying it. But recently, he just... he's not going with you to your therapist, leaves you to run on your own if I don't join you, you say that he doesn't wake you up for your pills any more, he's not following the routine."

"He's not following the routine," Ian repeated with a tone so sarcastic he could have only picked it up from the Milkovich household, "Fiona, it's _my_  routine, not his. And he may not follow it but he fucking makes sure I stick to it, better than that actually, he trusts me to stick to it on my own, why can't you?"

"It would just put my mind at ease if I knew someone was making sure that you took your medicine, your my little brother you can hardly blame me for being overly paranoid, especially after what happened to Liam."

"Speaking of, I think that you should worry more about your own drug consumption than mine."

He knew it was a low blow, knew that he would regret it even leaving his mouth, knew that the guilt was still eating Fiona alive. He also knew that she was sticking to her anti-drug regime as much as he was sticking to his taking-drug regime. But instead of witnessing the aftermath or offering up an apology, he jogged away.

_8:40am: return from run_

It was the usual time he returned, despite choosing a different route he kept that the same, one small deviation was enough for now. He stormed past the Milkovich siblings straight towards the bathroom, onto his next checkpoint.

_8:45am: after-run shower_

In the shower he let himself feel the full force of shame for condemning his sister. Ian didn't really know how he would deal with the damage he more than likely caused, but he was sure that Mickey would help, as always. Mickey would go out of his way remove any stessors from Ian's life, such as Kenyatta, he and Mandy had got rid of him as soon as Ian's issues came to light. Tension with Fiona was nothing compared to that abusive giant, they'd sort it out. On the plus side, maybe now she'd know not to question the blue-eyed Milkovich.

Right on cue, Mickey knocked and walked into the bathroom, immediately starting to undress and then joining Ian in the shower. He grabbed the back of redheads neck, pulling him into a rough kiss, somehow always knowing what the younger man needed. Ian sighed and leant into it, bringing his hands up to cling onto Mickey's hips. They would talk about the problem later, the way they spoke about a lot of things now, but they had always worked best with actions rather than words.

It was during this clash of skin, tongue and teeth, naked under the stream of water, that Ian's worries and annoyance with his morning routine started to fade. He realised that this was a routine he loved, one that he had hoped for ever since he had become Mickey's 'booty call'. The routine of coming back home to him, the routine of getting to kiss him everyday, of eating dinner together, sleeping in the same bed, being free. It was a routine that Ian wouldn't change for the world, wouldn't ever get bored of.

Moments like this made up for the rest of it; the waking up and going to sleep at the same time each day, the runs, the pill taking. That may be the same, but Mickey was always different, despite the routine he would always manage to find a way to surprise his other half, such as climbing into a shower just to comfort him.

Ian concluded that that's what he had hated about the routine at the army; Mickey Milkovich hadn't been there to shake it up a bit.


End file.
